Page 7 of Catch Me, Cowboy
She leveled a dark look at her long-time team roping partner. “Your point?”
Wyatt shrugged and mounted his zillion dollar horse. “No point.”
Shelby snorted. She was riding another of his zillion dollar horses—Ginger—who was so damned good at what he did that, when she roped, she only had to worry about herself, and what went on in her head—no easy task, since psyching herself out was what had gotten her in trouble back in the day. Twice she’d ruined their chances of being high school national champions by totally blowing her catches and thus pissing off a lot of Wyatt’s friends and supporters. Wyatt had shaken off the losses and gone on to win the NFR. Shelby had given up roping. Retired a loser and told herself she didn’t care if she ever touched a rope or rode into an arena again, so when Wyatt had asked her to partner with him a few months ago, she’d told him he was nuts. He persisted and she’d finally agreed. Only twice in her life had she walked away from a situation that had gotten the better of her—one was team roping and the other was her relationship with Ty. Roping she’d try again. All she was risking there was public humiliation.
“I need to break in this rope.” She shook out the stiff loops as they rode toward the box.
A trailer pulled into the drive as they moved into position and she could see the dust trail of another truck and trailer approaching in the distance. Pretty soon the driveway would be packed with trailers, which was why she’d arrived early. She wanted to get her practice in and head home.
Wyatt’s sister, Katie, was manning the chutes. She waited until Shelby was in position before asking, “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Shelby said.
“Hey, I heard that Ty’s back,” Katie added as she nudged the steer’s head so that he was looking straight ahead.
Shelby let out a pained breath and Katie frowned quizzically at her before she released the animal. Wyatt and Shelby charged after the steer, which cut to the left instead of continuing along the rail. Wyatt missed his first catch and muttered a filthy word. Shelby laughed. It didn’t happen often, but it felt good to know that Wyatt had bad days, too.
She roped three more times before calling it a night and starting home. Katie or Wyatt must have said something to the other ropers, because no one else helpfully informed her that Ty was back in Marietta—but she’d had the feeling all eyes were on her. And they’d be on her again when she and Ty inevitably bumped into each other in Marietta. Unless she hid out on the ranch until he left town.
You don’t do chicken shit stuff like that.
Right.
But she wished she knew how long Ty planned to stay. She should have asked, but hadn’t been thinking all that straight when they’d talked. She hadn’t been thinking all that straightafterthey’d talked, which worried her. Why did he still have this kind of an effect on her? And what could she do about it?
Waiting for him to leave wasn’t the answer, even if she allowed herself to do such a thing. If he’d come back to the area after retiring, it probably meant he planned to stay. Which meant she would see him. A lot. Marietta was a small town. Too small to effectively dodge an ex-lover.
Shelby slowed her truck to let a couple of white-tail deer cross in front of her, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. She’d been debating strategy all day long, talking herself in and out of various approaches to the situation with Ty, but regardless of what she tried to talk herself into, there seemed to be only one effective course of action—to confront matters head on. To take charge rather than waiting for something to happen.
Hiding out wasn’t going to give her any peace. If anything, it would make the ghosts of the past loom larger. Shelby didn’t need large ghosts hulking about. She wanted to get on with her life.
Besides, she was embarrassed by almost breaking down in front of him. That gave him a slight advantage.
So you take charge.
Shelby eased the truck forward after the last deer had cleared the fence and disappeared into the field on the opposite side, frowning to herself as a strategy took form.
Take charge. Go on the offensive. That was the last thing Ty would expect.
Tell him how things are going to be.
So what if the mere idea had made her palms sweat on the steering wheel? If she couldn’t do this, then it meant Ty still mattered in ways she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, accept.
She started to smile as she rounded the last corner before home.
She had her strategy.
Chapter Three
“You’re certain thebest defense is a good offense?” Cassie Johnson, Shelby’s best friend, leaned closer as she spoke, looking as if Shelby had just suggested she’d like to jump off a bridge. They shared a small table at FlintWorks, which was getting crowded and a touch loud, despite the lovely open layout of the old train depot turned microbrewery.
“I know Ty and I’ll be dealing with him regardless. I may as well set the time and place.”
“High noon. Main street?”
That was what it felt like.
Cassie took a sip of her drink, then nodded at Shelby’s untouched glass. “Maybe you do need to talk to him, so that you can get on with your life. I’ve never seen wine sit in front of you for so long.”
